


Close Encounters

by liquid_dreams



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alucard is Cool As A Cucumber, Blood and Gore, Developing Relationship, First Season Ep 3 rewrite, Gen, Lowkey Frotting, Trevor Is Bi, and some behind the scenes, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 21:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquid_dreams/pseuds/liquid_dreams
Summary: It's Ep 3, but gayer.





	Close Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I was going somewhere with this... :'>

Trevor has an image to maintain, so this problem arises at the most inconvenient time. Literally. He swallows dryly and tries not to wince at the merciless grip the vampire has on his hair. His grip on the handle of the broken blade is steady, but his palm is starting to get sweaty. Against his right thigh he can feel a telltale twitch even through two layers of leather. He notices straight away, there isn't a way not to. Hell, the blond menace practically climbed all over him with no regards to the way it may look to an innocent bystander such as Sypha. The way they are sitting on the dusty floor of the tomb, him on his ass and the vampire almost riding his thigh, is highly improper for a fight. It is messing with his righteous anger at discovering that their fabled saviour is a creature of the night. Instead of righteous, he only feels vaguely uncomfortable. The vampire looks cool as a cucumber, as if that isn't even his erection pressing against the poor Belmont's leg. And it twitches when the blade bites into his chest not hard enough to damage but enough of a warning. Trevor may be feeling disturbed and confused at the way the vampire is acting, but his pride won't let him say something as embarrassing as "Get your hands off me, you deviant!" Which he certainly is, make no mistake. A much larger part of his brain is occupied with his utter bewilderment at the fact that his throat is still intact and very much unbitten. The vampire lost some of his composure after recieving a new scar across his chest, but now he's not making any moves to end his life. In fact, he's sitting there with his fist in Trevor's hair and arguing that he totally can kill him, no problem. To which Trevor replies succintly:

"Yeah, but it won't stop me from staking you."

The vampire's eyes, a fascinating shade of molten gold, narrow in annoyance. The grip in his hair tightens as he leans in even more closely so their faces are barely a handspan apart. Highly improper. Trevor swallows and frowns lightly at the pain all over his body. Damn, but that blood sucker is one strong sonovabitch. 

"But you will still die," the vampire growls and forces his head back ever so slightly to make his point. 

Trevor refuses to break their stare-off, even though it's sort of hard at this angle. The fact that they're arguing about this is ridiculous. So this creature isn't like the others. He's trying to figure out what this means as he absently notices that the Vampire's long blond hair smells fresh, even though he's been lying in a coffin for a good year. It's hard not to notice with how it's basically forming a curtain around their faces. Trevor becomes abruptly aware just how close he is. Now that the fight is slowly leaking out of him it's getting real awkward. Yeah the fire is slowly receding because the vampire is here talking instead of biting, which can only mean that he's not really going to kill him. As insane as that sounds. So maybe.. if he just keeps talking.. he'll get out of this alive. 

"But I don't care," he promptly retorts before he can think about it. "Killing you was the point. Living through it was just a luxury."

Something unexpected happens. His boisterous show of bravardo makes the vampire laugh. He closes his eyes briefly so that his ridiculously long lashes fan over high sharp cheekbones and a pleasant sounding chuckle nearly transforms his features. It's a transfixing sight and he momentarily forgets how unpleasant his situation is even though it gives his a good view on the two prominent thin fangs looming dangerously close to his vulnerable neck. There's a soft whoosh behind the vampire's back and the fascinating eyes shift from Trevor's.

"I will incinerate you before your fangs touch that man's neck." Sypha's voice is surprisingly steady, given that only moments before she was the one demanding that he stop fighting the vampire.

"I thought I was your legendary saviour?" The mirth drains from his face only to be replaced by something dangerously close to a pout.

Trevor swallows when the hand in his hair tightens briefly and stops moving. Even if the vampire isn't trying to kill him right now there's no guarantee that he won't change his mind. He's not afraid of death, but he definitely doesn't want to put the young Speaker in any danger. 

"So did I, but that man saved my life."

If he was impressed with her foolhardiness before he's now feeling genuine respect for the young woman. Despite her age she already has a startling amount of balls. 

"You're a Speaker-Magician," the vampire says flatly. 

Trevor has started to notice how cool the vampire's skin is to the touch. He'd rather die than admit that the hand in his sweaty hair feels kind of nice. 

"Yes, and his goal is mine: To stand up for the people."

The vampire's wary frown turns into a small smirk when he glances back down at Trevor and he feels deep seated outrage and disgust at himself when it makes him perk up. 

"Good. Very good. A vampire hunter and a magician. You'll do." 

The sudden loss of contact startles him, even more so when the vampire's wounds heal before his very eyes as he gets up. It hits him then that he never truly intended to kill Trevor. It's quite a blow to his ego after he put such an effort into their fight. Worse yet the family bestiaries had mentioned vampires'ability to regenerate quickly, but seeing it in action is a whole different matter. At this rate.. The vampire straightens up looking every bit as regal and unruffled as he had before the fight began. Trevor stares up at him, very aware of how his legs are trapped between the vampire's feet. 

"I am Adrian Tepes," he declares proudly and Trevor takes the opportunity to shuffle backwards at last. "Known to the people of Wallachia as Alucard.."

The last part is directed at him as he drags himself up the stone stairs behind him. Again the vampire is staring at him with that unreadable expression. It's probably a credit to his abilities that he's so reluctant to shift his attention away from the hunter. 

"Son of Vlad Dracula Tepes." The words make Trevor's blood run cold and Sypha looks just as shocked. "I've been asleep in my private keep under Gresit for a year. To heal the wounds sustained by my father after I tried to stop him from unleashing his demon armies."

Sypha lowers her hand and the flaming sphere she'd summoned vanishes. Her expression shifts from wariness to hopeful surprise, much to Trevor's annoyance. 

"You are the sleeping soldier!"

Trevor meanwhile takes the opportunity to exhale deeply and be grateful that he's still alive while their attention is not on him. Even if he doesn't fear death that doesn't mean he's keen on throwing his life away. It kind of bothers him a lot that Sypha blushes immediately when the vampire looks at her with a small smile. Curse that creature for trying to enthrall her with his charms. She's clearly too young and idealistic to realize the dangers of trusting one such as him. 

"Do you know the whole story? The sleeping soldier will be met by a hunter and a scholar."

And oh bother doesn't it all start to make sense now. Trevor raises one brow at the both of them.

"No one told me that."

"Why do you think grandfather tried everything to make you stay?" Sypha says with a triumphant light dancing in her clear blue eyes.

She must be over the moon to be proven right. Fucking Speakers and their roundabout ways. Doling out bits and pieces of the truth as they see fit. 

"I hate Speakers," he grunts as he stands up to finally get off the cold floor. 

"What happens now?" 

Trevor grunts again and goes to fetch his whip Vampire Killer from where it's been tossed. It's just a gut feeling, something he can't prove, but sometimes he could swear that it has a life of its own. Right now for example it gives him an indignant feeling when he starts to coil the leather. Trevor frowns down at it. Is this thing seriously offended? Can it be? After all it's a family heirloom that has been passed down for generations. Technically it could have grown a life of its own after being wielded by numerous Belmonts. Maybe it's all his imagination, though. 

"I need a hunter and a scholar. I need help to save Wallachia... perhaps the world.. and defeat my father."

He barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Who does this vampire prick think he is? He sounds like he planned all of this. He can't help but wonder about the creature. Alucard, right.

"Why?" He asks the question that's been burning in his mind. 

"Because it is what my mother would have wanted," the vampire replies with a curious inflection that almost sounds.. sad. "And we are all, in the end, slaves to our families' wishes."

"You'll help us kill Dracula and save Wallachia?" He asks, careful not to let it show how incredulous the idea sounds to him. 

Sypha and the vampire, now clad in a long black coat with golden buttons, approach him side by side. He feels only slightly irked at the harmonic sight. Like they're all supposed to be friends now. 

"My father has to die," the vampire says gravely before his gaze lands on Sypha. "We three.. we can destroy him."

It's... weirdly encouraging. Trevor fixes his collar, shoots the two of them a glance and turns around. He feels slightly wary about doing so, but Sypha has proven herself capable of watching his back. It's going to take him time to trust the vampire, he can already tell. Yet he can't deny that his words ring true. Dracula's wife had been burned at the stake for alleged witchcraft one year ago in an event which started this whole mess. Trevor's family had been burned in their ancestral home for alleged witchcraft as well. Funny how fate works sometimes. Trevor doesn't think of himself as a sentimental man, but the eerie similarity of their circumstances lets him feel the slightest bit of sympathy for the vampire. Alucard, or is it Adrian now? 

It's clear that the vampire didn't expect the sheer magnitude of devastation Gresit suffered. His aloof expression cracks at the edges when his eyes widen just the slightest bit and his mouth twitches into a miniscule frown. Trevor catches all the small hints of emotion on his pallid face since he's not willing to let the vampire out of his sight even once. He's been watching the slightly taller man from the corner of his eyes ever since they left the underground. 

"Where to now?" He asks casually as they walk under an arch decorated with impaled heads.

"We should get back to grandfather. He and the other Speakers will want to meet Alucard."

He nods and shrugs before putting one hand in his pocket and resting the other on his whip. He feels strangely naked without his coat. It's not that he's self-conscious about the house crest embroidered on his tunic, he just feels sore all over and would like to avoid a brawl with superstitious peasants. While he and Sypha did help them defend against the Night Horde, securing the first victory against Dracula's armies to date, he's not keen on pushing his luck. The angry mob had readily turned on the Priests with just a few words; there's no telling what desperate men are willing to do if they believe it'll save them.

As they head through the rows of broken houses, corpses and downtrodden peasants he notices two things. Firstly they're not met by outright hostility. Secondly word of their nightly victory seems to have spread like wildfire. He meets several pairs of eyes that are filled with a tenative glimmer of hope. It's a bit disturbing considering that Gresit is hardly more than a bloodstained pile of rubble at this point. Once it had been one of the big cities of Wallachia with a population exceeding twenty thousand, nowadays there's barely a hundred people left. It will take them years to rebuild if they even bother to make the effort.

Trevor doesn't think they will. It's far more likely that people will start leaving since Gresit is becoming a ghost town. With no more Bishop to keep them confined through meaningless reassurances or threats they'll come to realize what Trevor knew since he arrived: it's far safer elsewhere. Everyone knows what Dracula said: Destroy the big cities. The Night Horde will come back and in far greater numbers now that they have suffered a blow.  
He rubs the back of his sore neck and blinks slowly at the Speaker's new abode in the mausoleum beneath the western graveyard. It's the place where he defeated the cyclops. Not particularly homey, but safer than being out in the open. They've managed to get a fire going and procure a few sleeping mats. Some of the strange white electric lights on the pillars still work. It's directly beneath the mausoleum and all they have to do is climb up a hidden set of stairs he discovered, making it easy to come and go unseen. There's a pot hanging over the fire and its contents smell really good. As if on cue his stomach grumbles. The elder Speaker stands up when he notices them and his expression lights up when he recognizes his grandchild. Sypha hurries over and hugs him tightly.

"Sypha. Belmont," he says and eyes the vampire with a curious expression. "I see you've brought a guest."

"This is the sleeping soldier. The legends are true!" Sypha exclaims brightly, barely able to conceal her excitement. "He'll help us defeat Dracula and save Wallachia!"

"Greetings. My name is Alucard," the vampire introduces himself and bows gracefully. 

"I see," the Speaker says with a gentle smile. "Welcome to our humble abode. I am the Elder of the Codrii Speakers. It's an honour to meet you."

"Now that we've found your sleepy messiah, will you please leave this city?" Trevor asks briskly with crossed arms. 

He silently vows that if they refuse he'll knock them all out and throw them down the shit pipe. The elder Speaker looks at him and lets out a weary sigh, but the harmless old man act isn't working anymore. Trevor's expression remains stern. They have a deal. Alucard turns halfway towards him and raises a delicate brow. Trevor glares at him and feels his hackles rise at the disdainful look aimed his way. 

"Would you make them leave the safety of the catacombs in broad daylight, when they don't even have a caravan?"

He grinds his teeth and mentally counts to ten. "The sooner they leave, the better. Gresit is dying, besides the Night Horde will soon be back in full force. It's not going to make a difference if they stay or not."

"Belmont," Sypha says in an admonishhing tone and frowns at him. "We can't just abandon the people. You've seen them, they've regained their hope."

Trevor grinds his teeth. Backstabbers, the lot of them. Why can't they just take the easy way out? Why is he suddenly the only one in the room with a shred of common sense? He hasn't survived this long and against all odds by being stupid (although his pride has gotten him into quite a few fistfights). He inhales deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

"Why do I even bother," he growls under his breath and goes to lean against a pillar a little distance away.

On the way he snatches an apple out of Arn's hand, which the young man comments with an outcry. They won't starve, he thinks and bites down into the juicy fruit. Arn frowns at him. He's got quite the temper for a Speaker. Out of the bunch of them Trevor likes him best. From his vantage point he can keep an eye on the entire room while also giving Sypha and her grandfather some space. If they're really going to do this thing -journey forth to kill Dracula- there's a good chance they won't survive the ordeal. Trevor has no illusions about the task ahead of them. It's a suicide mission with slim chances of success at best. Now that they have the vampire on their side the odds looks slightly better, but he can't help the nagging worry that it's all an act. It's hard to shake the distrust of all things supernatural. Comes with a lifetime of hunting or being hunted by their ilk, he thinks as he finishes the apple. 

Alucard is acting perfectly docile, keeping his movements slow and unthreatening as he speaks with the elder. The other Speakers are staring with a mix of awe and hope on their faces. They seem fully convinced that the vampire is their fabled messiah. Fine, so their prophecy turns out to be true. But only because the Vampire himself invented it. Trevor knows on some level that time isn't exactly linear. Reading about this stuff always gave him headaches. Some stories come from the future. The vampire built his keep hundreds of years ago, but doesn't look a day older than eighteen and his mother was human. So if he's not mistaken that means that the vampire is somewhat unmoored from their reality. It only adds to the many questions Trevor has about him. As if he can sense his thoughts, said vampire suddenly looks up and shoots him a questioning glance. Trevor looks away. Damn, but those golden eyes are captivating. Best not to let himself get caught. His eyes meet Sypha's blue ones then. They narrow with suspicion as they travel quickly between the two young men. She's far too perceptive, that one. 

"Belmont," her tone is quiet and imploring. "He is our best bet. You know this."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he replies curtly and crosses his arms. 

Sypha sighs in response and tugs her dark blue Speaker robes back in place. They cover her figure wholly and when the hood is drawn into her face the gender of its wearer becomes hard to tell. Besides it being an identification of her group, it must also be practical while travelling. Trevor's sure that it is for the same reason why her hair is so short. His eyes land on the pot. Arn is stirring the contents with a concentrated look on his face. In the warm light of the fire his finely chiselled features practically seem to glow. 

"Hungry?" The young woman asks and raises a brow at him.

"Starving," he retorts in the same tone. "Let's go grab a bowl. Might be the last warm meal we'll get for a while."

While they're eating, sitting in a circle with the other Speakers, he finds his gaze drawn back to the solemn black clad figure leaning against a pillar a litte ways away. In the shadows just out of reach of the fire's warm light. Trevor wonders silently if he too can't look at the flames for too long before he starts seeing burning faces in their midst. Sypha puts her bowl down and stretches with a big yawn. 

"It should be getting dark soon," she says in direction of the vampire. "Should we.. travel during the night? Would that be better for you?"

"It hardly matters," the blond replies.

"Don't your kind burn in the sunlight?" Trevor eyes him warily and braces himself when the golden eyes meet his.

"As you've seen, the sun doesn't hurt me. It's one of the few perks of being a half-breed."

"Fine."

"However, prolonged exposure can become rather.. unpleasant."

"So we'd better get a move on, huh." Trevor gets up with a low grunt, very aware of the way his backside aches. 

"Aren't you tired, Belmont?" Sypha asks slowly with an uncertain look. "I know I am. I didn't sleep at all between you rescuing me and finding the messiah."

"Alucard, if you please."

"Huh?! O-oh, of course!" Sypha blushes again and quickly looks away when the vampire finally walks over to them. 

He sighs and refrains from rolling his eyes, but only barely. "I'd love to take a nap, but that's not a luxury we can afford right now. Soon as night rolls around this place is gonna go to shit. Let's not be here when that happens."

"The people-!" Sypha starts to protest. 

"Will die anyway if they're too dumb to run. The best we can do for them is to find and kill Dracula as quickly as possible."

"Which is no small task," Alucard cuts in smoothly. "After all, his castle can appear anywhere."

"About that. Do you have any clues as to its whereabouts?" Trevor refuses to avert his gaze and the vampire returns it cooly. 

"Before he met my mother, father did not travel a lot. I imagine that her loss.. might have made him return to his former habits. There is a chance that the castle will remain in its current place for some time. As to where that is... I'm afraid I do not know."

"It was last seen when it appeared in Targoviste," Sypha supplies with a determined glint in her eyes. 

"A year ago. You think it's likely still there?" 

Sypha shrugs. "Nobody goes there anymore so there haven't been any rumors. It's the only clue we have, however."

"Off to Targoviste we go then," Trevor shrugs.

Two of the Speakers approach them and his eyes light up when he recognizes the huge furry cloak held between them. 

"We saved this for you," an older woman says with a kind smile. 

"My cloak! Ah, great. Thank you," he grins and slips it on, fastening the clasp with practised movements. 

"An interesting garment. How many goats had to die for this?" Alucard raises a delicate brow at him and Trevor bristles. 

"Wha-?! This is clearly not goat fur!"

"But it smells like it." Sypha's lips twitch with barely constrained laughter. 

"Bah, philistines. Let's see how well you do on the road with those flimsy garments," he grunts and turns his back on both of them with a scowl. 

They're out of Gresit after sundown. It took quite a while until Sypha was done with her farewells, particularly with her grandfather. All that matters is that they make it, though. He's made as sure as he can that the Speakers keep up their end of the deal and leave the city as well, but ultimately they go their seperate ways so he won't know for sure. He's not used to travelling the lonely country roads with company, has gotten used to silence and making decisions on his own. Now he has to ask a bunch of questions for everything, since they're a team now or whatever. Alucard, the godless bastard, has no trouble navigating his way around puddles and stray roots in the dark whatsoever. Meanwhile Trevor gets his boots wet and leaves stuck in his hair when he's not careful. It must make a comical display, but the third member of their little party remains suspiciously quiet. Indeed, Sypha doesn't make fun of him or complain about the rough roads at all. She has a grim set to her jaw and doesn't make eye contact while they go. He doesn't ask. Maybe she's mad at him for practically threatening her people into abandoning their principles, or maybe she's simply trying to keep up with their longer legs, being the shortest of the three. They're all tense, listening for telltale shrieks in the forest, but luck is on their side. 

When the sun begins to rise on the horizon they've left the forest behind and decide to rest in a dried up riverbed. It's as safe as they can get in the open fields surrounding them. No one tends the plots anymore so the weeds have got the upper hand, slowly devouring the growing grains. Particularly the blackthorn spreads its thorny tendrils all over the fields.  
Trevor busies himself setting up a circle of stones before he goes to gather dry sticks of wood. Making fire out in the open isn't the best idea, but even so it's better than doing it after sundown. The worst they'll attract during the day is bandits.  
Alucard wraps himself up in his coat, which isn't really big enough to cover all of him. It looks silly and Trevor snorts quietly at the display. It reminds him of a disgruntled bat. Sypha rests her back against the side of the riverbed, barely able to keep her eyes open. She gives him a questioning look.

"Go ahead, sleep. I'll take first watch," he tells her.

She gives a curt nod and falls asleep almost immediately. Trevor regards her quietly. For such a young thing, and a city dweller no less, she's keeping up admirably. He'd secretly expected her to make more of a fuss about the dirt and discomfort, but he's realizing that he underestimated this formidable young magician. Only if she'd lit the fire before nodding off... With a sigh he sets to work on getting the fire going. He's a bit out of practice so it takes almost half an hour. When the fire crackles to life he sits back and stares at the flames until he almost sees a face and then averts his gaze. The Speakers gave them each small sacks of food rations, which he's grateful for. He's not sure how many wild animals are around. Probably a few rabbits and mice: hardly worth the hassle when they have dried goat and apples. 

He takes his time to sort through everything that happened back at Gresit. He's seen what the Night Horde does countless times already, but never from up close. A shiver runs down his back and his stomach lurches as the images flash before his eyes, so he quickly shuts them and focuses on his breathing. In and out. In and out. He's alive. He's even saved some people. It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Trevor tries to swallow the bile in his throat. This is why he prefers being drunk. He stares up at the blue sky.

"Ah, shit," he grumbles quietly. "Wish I had some ale."

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 will contain the smut I originally meant to write ~


End file.
